The Library Chair
by from-under-the-stingue-tree
Summary: "Rogue wasn't the kind of person who was fond of confrontation, so he normally wouldn't have said anything. But this was different. The guy lounging in his chair was doing it purposely to elicit a reaction from Rogue. It was working." Modern/High School AU. Stingue Two-Shot.
1. Chapter 1

**The Library Chair.**

 **Stingue**

 **Modern/High School AU**

* * *

Someone was in Rogue's chair.

Usually, the raven-haired teen wouldn't really care if someone was in the chair that he used almost every day at the public library. Rogue wasn't the kind of person who was fond of confrontation, so he normally wouldn't have said anything. But this was different. The guy lounging in his chair was doing it purposely to elicit a reaction from Rogue. It was working.

Rogue couldn't deny that the guy was hella handsome. He also couldn't deny that he was annoying as fuck. The guy sitting in his chair was in most of Rogue's honours-level courses, which really hurt his pride (seriously, if the dipshit could get into honours courses, what did that say about people who were genuinely intelligent?).

As he pushed open the glass doors to the library, Rogue prayed that the guy wouldn't be there. He weaved through the shelves of sappy romance novels and nonfiction books, ending in the back corner of his favourite building. Skimming over the spines of the novels in the Sci-Fi section, he made his way to the corner where his chair sat.

The chair didn't really hold a ton of sentimental value to him, but it was just his favourite place to sit. It was old – at least ten years old, if he had to guess – and faded – the original dark brown colour had faded over time into a medium chestnut shade. The material was plush, and the cushions weren't _too_ soft or too oh-my-god-this-chair-fucking-hurts-my-back-if-I-sit-here-too-long hard. It was a comfortable chair. But what Rogue liked most about it was _where_ it was. It was comfortably nestled in this little nook in the corner. The nook had been formed by the excess space from the storage closet right next to it. The spot had one tall window on one side, and Rogue had even taken the effort to install a lamp. Even now, he spent a lot of late nights when he didn't feel like going home at the one place that he felt truly safe – among the books that couldn't judge him.

Before Rogue had even turned the corner, he knew that the guy was in his seat. "Get the fuck out of my seat, Sting."

The blond boy was smiling lazily when he came into Rogue's field of view. "Why? It's comfy."

Rogue's first instinct was to just say _Yeah, you can have my chair…_ as he looked into the guy's dark blue eyes. They were downright gorgeous. _He_ was downright gorgeous.

The muscular male was lounged comfortably across the chair, both legs hanging off of one armrest, his back resting on the other. He wore a loose white tank top with a pair of black basketball shorts. Rogue tried not to notice how nicely the outfit displayed his muscles that he had earned from years of playing sports. He tried not to notice that his shorts had fell just the slightest bit because of the position he was sitting in, which exposed his upper leg—

 _Holy god shit dammit FUCK! Can you possibly get any more gay? Calm your shit, Rogue._

Taking a deep breath to slow his rapid heartbeat and to try to lessen the colour on his usually-pale cheeks, Rogue struggled to regain his composure.

"C-can I j-just have my seat back… please?" he cursed himself for stuttering, and he felt another wave of blush dusting his whitish cheeks.

Sting chuckled, showing off his sharper-than-normal canines and perfectly straight teeth. His smile was nice. It fit his face.

Really, everything about Sting just _made sense._ Not socially, of course. But physically. He had messy blond hair, a slim yet muscular figure, a slightly-taller-than-average height, and blue eyes that made everyone melt. _Everyone._ And his face was just pleasing to look at in Rogue's opinion. He had a scar running diagonally over his right eyebrow, which added a bit of interest to his face. _Something imperfect… that's still just as perfect._

 _Rogue! Stop right fucking now! No! He is the enemy for fuck's sake! He took your seat, dammit!_

 _Right._

"But I like this chair," the relaxed human whined.

Rogue fought the thoughts in his head that urged him to do things that were _most certainly not_ socially acceptable, bringing back his self-control. "Look, I've got homework to do. Can I have my chair?"

"What will you do for me, then?"

Rogue blinked. "Wha-what? What will _I_ do for _you?_ "

"Yup. I'll move, but only if I get something out of it." The light-haired athlete grinned.

Tugging anxiously at his black ponytail, the bookworm sighed. "Uhhhh, I don't know. What do you want from me?"

"Dinner."

"Huh?" Rogue must've heard the attractive boy lounging in front of him incorrectly.

"And a movie."

His heart raced, realising what Sting had requested. And with such a straight, calm face, too! How do you ask someone to go out with you so calmly?

 _Did Sting seriously just ask me out? What is… I'm dreaming. I'm going to wake up, and it's going to be cruel. That's the only explanation. I'm dreaming, and I'm about to wake up. Then things will go back to normal with our normal arguments about the chair. That's how today is supposed to go. We're supposed to argue a little bit, I eventually give in, we see each other tomorrow morning, pretend we don't know one another, and repeat. He's not supposed to mess with the works. This is just mean. This is a cruel joke. This isn't reality. No, Sting Eucliffe is a Class-A asshole jock. He isn't the kind of person who would ask out a loner bookworm who hides from his problems. He isn't the kind of person who would like_ guys. _Sting Eucliffe is as straight as they come. Is this what he thinks of as a joke?_

Sting seemed to notice Rogue's hesitation, so it was his turn to blush. "I mean… will you go out wi—"

"Stop."

Sting cocked his head to the side in confusion.

"If you're trying to mess with my head or something, stop." His voice cracked and wavered unevenly. The raven-haired teenager's knees locked as his hands shook. "Please… just stop. It's not funny. If you want to go back to your friends with stories about me, fine, but don't fucking mess with my head, okay? I… I can't take that. This isn't funny. We can pretend this never happened, and we can go back to how we were before. But this isn't something that you joke about, okay? If this is your friends' sick and twisted idea of a prank, they're more fucked up in the head than I am. You… you can't just fuck around with someone's head like this… It's… it's not fair." Before his word filter could activate itself, words came tumbling out of his face.

Sting was quiet for a few seconds for reasons that Rogue could not understand. Rogue just stood where he was, breathing uneven, staring at his feet. Rogue knew that his face had to be bright tomato red, and he knew that, by this point, he must have tears forming.

 _Dammit. I didn't want to let my guard down. I didn't want anyone to see this. I've worked so fucking hard to keep it together for years, and here he is, and now I can't keep myself together for shit. Fuck! This is it. By tomorrow, all of the junior class will know that Rogue Cheney is a gay cry-baby. Here I am, in the middle of a fucking breakdown in front of the guy I've liked since grade seven! Fuck, fuck, fu—_

"Rogue?"

Rogue's breath hitched as he tried to comprehend the scene in front of him.

Sting, with a concerned look plastered on his face, was crouched in front of the emotionally-unstable teenager. "I'm not fuckin' with your brain," he said carefully. "I'm serious. I wanna go out with ya."

"You're lying," Rogue spat.

"What kind of asshole would I be if I lied about something like this?"

"The kind that I've always known you to be," Rogue spat without thinking.

Sting winced, as if that actually stung his ego. "Ouch. Look, I joke about a lot of things, and I'm the biggest asshole you'll ever meet. But I won't fuck with your head when it comes to liking someone. This isn't for my friends' entertainment. This is something that's purely for me. Will you go on a date with me?"

The stubborn part of Rogue wanted to just scream _nope! And you lost the chair! Ha!_ But the logical – and emotional – part of his brain told him doing that would make him a bigger jackass than a person who screws with another person's head.

Instead of accepting, though, the suspicious part of Rogue's mind asked, "Why should I believe whatever you're saying? It's not true. It can't be! Why _me?_ Why do you want to go out on a date with me? _"_

Sting stood, heaving out an exasperated breath. "Goddammit, Rogue! Am I not allowed to just ask someone out on a date because I _like_ them?"

An angered shush from a few aisles over, briefly interrupted them. Before Rogue spoke next at a lower volume, he thought bitterly, _I'm surprised we haven't gotten yelled at before now._ Rogue's head snapped up as he eyed the angered athlete standing before him. "No! Not when it's some kind of twisted prank! Why me? Why did you choose me?"

"I don't know! All I know is that I like you, and I'm trying to ask you out on a date, so will you please just say yes?" Sting growled.

Rogue allowed himself to smile, and he dried his eyes as he looked up. _Three times. He said that he likes me… three times. People usually don't lie three times in a row during some kind of sick prank. After all, in the prank business, there has to be some kind of line._ "Alright, Sting, I'll go on a date with you. But I want my chair back." A glint of playfulness danced in the dark-haired teen's eyes.

"Fine," Sting said simply, gesturing to the chair. "You're paying."

"You're kidding, right?" Rogue deadpanned.

Sting grinned in a devilish manner. "Not one bit. I said you could have your chair back is you took me out to dinner and a movie. Now, come on!" He took Rogue's hand and started dragging him towards the library exit.

"Hey! Wait—" Rogue tried. He debated lying and saying that he didn't have his wallet with him or that he was broke, but he didn't want to mess with anything that could potentially be good.

"Nope!"

"I forgot my backpack! Sting! Let goooooo!"

At some point, Rogue just gave in an accepted the fact that he had just been asked on a date – and by Sting Eucliffe, captain of the Every Team Ever, no less. _Well. I guess I could go along with this._

* * *

 _A/N: Goddammit! I meant for this to be a cute, fluffy thing! Why did I have to add in angst, no matter how minor it was? I'm just gonna blame my mega-angsty Gratsu fic, **If Fire Could Freeze, We'd Be Okay.** I feel like they're both out of character - Rogue especially - but I'm pleased with how this came out, I think? So there's a one-shot for your day. Leave a review! -Stephanie_


	2. Chapter 2

**The Library Chair, Part II**

 _Stingue_

* * *

"A table for two?" the hostess asked the two teenagers, who were complete opposites in every way. The blond boy was tall and lanky and muscular and wore a tank top and basketball shorts. The black-haired boy was skinny, looked like he hadn't had enough sleep in three years, and wore a black hoodie and black jeans.

"Yes," Sting replied, sneaking a glance towards Rogue, who was still having a hard time gaining control of his emotions.

As she guided them around the restaurant, weaving between tables and booths, Sting stole peeks at his date, a small smile on his face. _He looks so fuckin' adorable like that!_ Rogue's cheeks were flushed, his head was down, and he seemed to be trying to burrow into his oversized hoodie as if he were a turtle.

The pair silently took their seats, and Rogue carefully opened the menu and began considering his options for dinner. However, without the other's knowledge, Sting observed the boy sitting across from him instead of studying the menu.

Rogue didn't appreciate how handsome he was. His black hair was pulled up into a loose ponytail with his long bangs hanging over his right eye. Sting watched as the visible crimson eye flitted back and forth, reading the descriptions of the entrees. Sting's date subconsciously gnawed on his lower lip as he read, which the blond found to be the most adorable and irresistible thing.

"What are you getting?" the book-lover asked, briefly looking up from the paper in his hands. Rogue paused, seeming to notice Sting's observant gaze. "What?"

The athlete grinned as charmingly as he could. "It's nothing. I just like looking at you," he admitted, grateful that he didn't have to completely hide what he really thought of his chair rival.

Rogue's cheeks flushed as he blinked a few times. "Why?" he questioned, staring at his pale, thin hands.

Sting sighed, "Because you're adorable. Anyways, it would be a bit strange if I didn't look at you on a date."

"We-well, yeah," Rogue stammered, "but you don't have to st-stare."

 _So. Fucking. Adorable._

Sting shrugged his shoulders unapologetically and flipped the food selection paper open. "I think I'm going to get a burger," he announced after a few seconds of looking over the options. "You?"

"Um," the red-eyed teen started, "I'm getting a chicken quesadilla."

Sting nodded.

They were silent for another few moments, observing one another, before the waitress arrived to introduce herself and to take a drink order.

"Coke," Sting requested.

"What he's having," Rogue said.

Then, the waitress left the two alone again. They were quiet, but the silence was rather comfortable in Sting's opinion. Although they had never been "friends" or had any kind of positive relationship, Sting knew Rogue well enough through their encounters at the library to be comfortable with silence. However, Rogue looked incredibly tense and anxious with the stillness.

Trying to ease the tension, Sting started, "So, tell me about yourself." The dark-haired boy raised an eyebrow, so he continued. "I've known you for a while, but we've never really learned anything about each other except that I play sports and you like books."

Rogue released a breath. Sting was amazed at how nervous Rogue was but didn't comment on it. "What is there to tell? I've known you since the seventh grade."

"But who are _you?_ You're the genius from my math class, but I don't know what _you're_ like. I know the quiet nerdy boy who always knows the answer but never speaks up. Tell me about your favourite music, your favourite books. Stuff like that."

The boy considered that. "Music, eh? Well, I guess my typical music type falls in the area between alternative pop and rock. Like, recently I've been listening to a lot of All Time Low and Panic! at the Disco. My all-time favourite band is Fall Out Boy," he explained. "Close behind them is twenty one pilots and My Chemical Romance."

Sting eagerly nodded, motioning for Rogue to continue.

"I guess I usually stay away from Top-40 songs. You know, they just sort of get over-played and piss me off," he chuckled. "What about you?"

Sting rested his elbow on the table. "I guess I usually like rock and pop music. Fall Out Boy is the shit, man. But I really like Bring Me the Horizon and Black Veil Brides. Bring Me the Horizon's new stuff is really good."

Rogue bobbed his head in agreement.

"What about your family?"

Rogue's face darkened considerably, and his posture slumped a little as he shifted his gaze to the wood grains of the table. "Um, you know. It's a family. I don't get along with my mom, my dad's out of the picture, and Gajeel is an asshole who only comes home once or twice a week."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

After that, they were quiet for another few seconds until the two Cokes arrived. Rogue eagerly took a sip and averted his eyes from the athlete, seemingly grateful for the distraction.

"What can I get you guys?" the waitress wondered.

"Uh," Rogue mumbled, looking a tad bit panicked.

Grinning at the raven-haired boy and then the waitress, Sting said, "I'll have a Signature Cheeseburger. And my friend is having a," he paused to look at Rogue, silently asking him to correct Sting if he was incorrect, "chicken quesadilla."

A shy and grateful smile danced over Sting's date's lips as he nodded.

"Alright," she said, furiously scribbling down the order. "How would you like your burger done?"

"Medium, please."

"We'll have them right out for you two," she announced, shooting Sting a flirty grin as she slammed her notepad shut and walked back towards the kitchen. He chuckled lightly at her flirting attempt, which was in vain.

After she was out of earshot, Rogue nearly inaudibly whispered, "Thank you."

"Always," the blond replied simply.

"So what about you?"

"Hm?"

"Your family. What is your family like?"

The teen's face darkened as he winced at painful memories, suddenly regretting asking Rogue about his home life. "It's rather similar to you, I guess. My dad's gone and my mom is drunk or passed out most of the time."

"I'm sorry, Sting."

"Don't be," was Sting's only reply. He directed his full attention to the mostly-full glass of Coke in front of him.

 _Get a hold of yourself. This is a date! You don't need to make him feel bad. This is your chance, so get your shit together, Sting._

Plastering a beaming smile on his face, he asked, "What're you doing after high school?"

Rogue's features appeared to brighten up at the question. "I'm going into computer programming. I'm planning on attending MIT or another good technical school. You?"

"Not a clue," Sting chuckled. "Hope I can go somewhere on a sports scholarship. Might major in business. Y'know, I've been thinking that I want to start some kind of business."

Rogue bobbled his head. "What kind of business?" The blond was genuinely surprised by how interested Rogue sounded in Sting's future plans.

"Maybe some kind of online shop. I'm not sure." He nervously scratched the back of his head, ruffling his spiky hair as he continued. "I haven't had a chance to think about it all that much. Right now, I'm more concerned with figuring out how to pass Chemistry and Math III."

The bookworm laughed at that. "I get it. Hey, if you need help, I can tutor you. I finished both of those classes last year."

"Gee, thanks for rubbing it in to us stupid folk," Sting sarcastically said, smiling lazily.

Rogue's eyes widened. "No, no! I was being serious. If you need help, I'd be – "

"Dude, chill. I was just messin' with you."

"Oh." He blushed and directed his line of sight to his nearly-empty glass.

Once the extended silence was starting to get awkward, the food arrived. Both murmured "thanks" to the waitress and examined their respective entrees.

Sting noticed once he was nearly halfway done with his burger that Rogue hadn't eaten much; he'd only taken a few bites of his quesadilla. "Are you alright?"

Rogue threw a smile across his face and replied, "Yeah. Why?"

"You haven't eaten much, and you look sad, so I was worried."

"Nah, I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

He pressed his lips into a thin line, debating whether or not to press farther on the matter. Using his better judgement, Sting decided to leave the issue alone; they weren't super close yet, and he wasn't sure how much Rogue would open up anyways. Sting didn't want to fuck this up early on, so he dropped it.

They were mostly quiet until the waitress returned a while later with the check. Sting would ask Rogue a question occasionally, which Rogue would answer quickly and then direct back towards Sting.

The shy boy read down the bill, checking that all of the charges were correct, and then his eyes widened slightly at the bottom. Sighing, Rogue tugged a debit card out of his black wallet, set it inside the folder, and placed it on the edge of the booth.

"How much?" Sting asked, feeling slightly guilty for forcing Rogue to pay. He didn't know whether or not his date had enough money to pay for a dinner and a movie if he hadn't been saving up. This dinner certainly wouldn't be super cheap.

"Don't worry about it," was the response Sting received.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, it's all good. It's not too bad."

About ten minutes later, they exited the restaurant and headed for Sting's beat-up truck waiting in the parking lot. Sting started the automobile, buckled in, and waited for Rogue to get in before pulling out onto the main street.

"What movie do you want to see?" Rogue asked.

"You can choose."

Rogue tapped a few things on his phone, and then he suggested, "How about the new action movie that came out a few weeks ago? There's a showing in about twenty minutes."

Sting nodded, keeping his eyes on the road towards the movie theatre.

* * *

The lights dimmed in the theatre as the pair sat down in the back row. The opening scene began, showing the main character sleeping, punching an alarm clock, and then going through his morning routine.

 _Honestly. Can you get any more clichéd with the intro?_ Sting wondered.

Rogue's eyes stayed trained on the screen, but Sting couldn't help himself from staring at the gorgeous human next to him. In the dark, Rogue's hair cast a larger shadow than usual, so Sting could barely see anything past his nose. He had burrowed slightly into his oversized hoodie, so his pale chin was just barely tucked into it. It appeared as though Rogue's red eye had glazed over, which could possibly mean that he was paying about as much attention to the movie as Sting was. Of course, the blond could be wrong – he hadn't seen Rogue's gaze move from the screen – but he truly hoped that his suspicion was correct. That might make his staring slightly less creepy.

Rogue's ponytail had become even messier than it was earlier. Several strands had fallen out at the base of his neck, so a few short, slightly curly pieces laid on Rogue's neck. In addition, some hairs had pulled out next to his left ear, so they just casually lay next to the pale cheek.

In Sting's opinion, Rogue's hair was his best physical feature, with his eyes close behind. Of course, what Sting truly found attractive was the male's personality. There was something about Rogue's nervous habits of blushing when he stumbled over his words and kneading his thumb and forefinger together when he felt awkward that Sting thought were irresistible. When he read, he subconsciously gnawed on his lower lip.

When Sting was in Rogue's Math I class in the ninth grade, he had observed that, as he solved problems, he had a habit of rolling his eyes back into his head as he calculated problems. Sometimes, when Rogue was especially tired, he would even mouth the numbers he was dealing with silently. Other times, he would quietly click his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

 _So. Fucking. Adorable._

Sting didn't realise until it was too late that, while he had been admiring his date's cute habits, he had slid his arm around Rogue's shoulders. Rogue shot an alarmed look towards the athlete, which made panicky thoughts run through Sting's brain, but then his expression softened as he directed his attention back to the screen. There was a smile on the genius's lips.

As Rogue got more comfortable with Sting's physical contact – Sting had figured out a while back that Rogue wasn't fond of touching people, but he seemed to be rather okay with this – the raven-haired boy relaxed more and more. By the time the ending credits rolled, Rogue had actually curled up in the seat, and his head was resting on Sting's muscular shoulder. He had his feet on the edge of the seat, his knees bent on the armrest, a single arm loosely draped over the long legs.

The lights brightened, causing both teens to wince. The athlete was about to stand up, but the bookworm resting on his shoulder showed no signs of wanting to move. Sting cautiously craned his neck to look at Rogue's calm face. His date's eyes were closed, and a miniscule grin was on his face. "You ready to head out?"

Rogue slowly shook his head, mumbling, "No."

"Why not?" Sting asked quietly, thinking to himself that he really didn't want to leave either.

"Too tired."

After about five minutes and once everyone else had cleared out of the theatre and the staff started cleaning, Sting reluctantly shrugged his shoulder slightly. "We've gotta go, Rogue."

"How come?" the resting teen mumbled.

"They're closing soon," the blond whispered, ignoring the disapproving glares from the theatre staff. He carefully retracted his arm from around his date.

Sighing, Rogue picked himself up off of Sting's bare shoulder.

After a lot of complaining and yawning, the two made it out to Sting's truck. "I had a lot of fun," Rogue said softly when they started heading back to the library, where his car still was.

"Me, too," Sting admitted without missing a beat.

Sting just barely caught a hint of a blush on Rogue's cheeks in the dark. "I'd really like to do this again sometime."

The light-haired teen's heart skipped a beat. _Is he saying what I think he is?_ "You'd like to… date?" he asked cautiously.

"Yeah… yeah, I guess I do," the bookworm said with a smile.

Sting beamed to the road ahead of him. He pulled into the library parking lot and parked in the spot next to Rogue's beat-up black car. He leaped out of the truck as quickly as he could and ran over to his new _boyfriend's_ door. Bowing slightly, mostly in a sarcastic manner, Sting pulled open Rogue's door. "I present to you, your chariot of darkness."

Rogue blushed, which Sting barely caught in the low light, and jumped down from the vehicle. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Sting beamed, "I'll see you tomorrow." He watched as Rogue started his car and began driving away. At the edge of the parking lot, Rogue stopped the car, and put it in park. Sting cocked his head to the side when he saw the boy running towards him across the dark lot, illuminated by only one light.

Rogue slammed into Sting, wrapping his arms around him and pulling them close together. Suddenly, he had Rogue's lips on his own, pale fingers on the back of his neck and in his hair. Rogue kissed ferociously, which really surprised the blond for some reason. His lips moved frantically, as if this might be the last time they would get to do this. _But it's actually the first time and holy fuck this is great,_ Sting reminded himself.

Sting frowned when Rogue pulled away too soon for his liking. His heart was pounding, and the only thing he could think of was that _oh my god he seriously just did that is this seriously Rogue Cheney because oh my god that was fucking hot and come on dude do it again you're a fucking good kisser._

"Good night," Rogue whispered breathlessly before dashing back to his parked car without saying anything more.

Sting stared after the bookworm, wondering what the fuck just happened. _Rogue Cheney just kissed me. And I'm dating Rogue Cheney. And holy fuck, this man is amazing._

Sting forced himself to calm down as he climbed back into the pickup truck, trying to decipher the event. Rogue, the shy guy that won't even answer a question in front of class just kissed him out of the blue. The athlete had no _fucking_ clue what came over the teen, but he wasn't about to complain.

* * *

 _A/N: I didn't anticipate for this to happen, but it did. Someone had asked for a second part with their date, and I had a free afternoon. How exactly it makes sense that this is 1000 words longer than the first part, I don't know, but I'm pretty proud of this, considering the ending was rushed. I wanted it to be in Sting's Point of View for this part, so I did. I sort of wanted to show Rogue's POV, especially during the movie theatre scene and the end, but oh well. I hope you guys liked it. I don't think I'm going to add anything more to this, but apparently it's possible, but no promises. I will tell you that I have a pretty cool OS that I'm working on right now that has to do with the Twin Dorks in the Atlanta airport for six hours. Maybe I'll finish that soon. I hope so, because I'm really excited about it. - Stephanie_


End file.
